


Who Knew?

by Snapperoni



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alcohol, Arguing, Break Up, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Insecurity, M/M, Making Out, Post-Break Up, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29774313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snapperoni/pseuds/Snapperoni
Summary: You can only stretch a rubber band so far until it breaks, and after over ten years the band holding Bulma and Yamcha's relationship finally snapped.The end had been foreseeable for a while, but still it felt all too surreal- it was even more surreal when Yamcha found himself at the entrance of Tien's farmhouse, hoping for its owner to let him inside.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs & Yamcha, Tenshinhan/Yamcha (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Who Knew?

As the cold, mid-spring air prickled at her cheeks, Bulma couldn’t abstain from fumbling with the ends of her scarlet dress, her orange vest doing little to keep the chilly air away. From beside her, she could only faintly hear the tipsy prattling coming from Yamcha.

Her silence and vague hums of seeming acknowledgement spoke volumes to Yamcha as the large grin plastered on his face weakened, now taking a moment to actually look at Bulma to find his girlfriend’s gaze glossy while she looked at the floor. She didn’t even seem to mind that the constant picking at her dress was starting to tarnish her freshly-painted nails.

“Hey,” Yamcha started, setting his near-empty glass on the table next to the shared wine bottle. It was only when Bulma pried her eyes from the floor with a jolt to look at him that Yamcha continued, his cheery mood quickly dissipating at the odd display. “You alright?”

As much as Bulma wanted to feign ignorance or even irritation at the question, she couldn’t muster such a reaction. Instead she pressed her lips together, quietly studying Yamcha’s concerned expression before finding new solace in her glass. 

Grabbing it off of the table, she gave it a delicate swirl. “Yamcha…” she started before taking a generous sip. “I’m…” The brisk night air did well to combat the rising heat in her body the more she drank from her wine glass; she fully intended for the light inebriation to make this conversation a lot easier- it only seemed to do the opposite as she felt her fingertips grow numb, the urge to nibble at the inside of her lips too strong to resist. “Maybe this isn’t right.”

Perplexed further, Yamcha leaned closer towards Bulma. “What isn’t?” A sinking feeling began to fester and infect his stomach as he grabbed the bottle, giving it a proper look over before dryly chuckling. “I didn’t grab the wrong stuff did I? I mean, I don’t think it’s  _ that  _ bad. Maybe a little too sweet but-”

Curling her fingers further into her dress, Bulma forced herself to look at Yamcha who still seemed entirely transfixed on the bottle. “You know that’s not what I mean.” It was unconscious that her brows began to furrow, her shoulders to her ears as she stared pleading at him.

Yamcha couldn’t help but to wince at the assertion, both at the rising volume of Bulma’s voice and at the curtness of the claim. Even now that the bottle was clearly irrelevant to the conversation, he couldn’t find it in himself to let it go, instead defensively cradling the bottle closer to his chest. Looking back to Bulma, the two locked eyes for the first time that night as it became his turn to take in her features. He could only whisper a reserved  _ “Oh.”  _ once he finally allowed himself to accept the truth.

It was becoming increasingly more and more awkward the more they allowed the moment to settle, yet neither lovers could retract their gazes. Allowing the bottle its freedom, Yamcha placed it on the ground before clearing his throat, folding his hands on top of the table while attempting to better focus on Bulma. “Okay, uh… what do you want to do then? Do you want to take a break, or…”

Bulma tenderly shook her head, calming down from her prior outburst. “I don’t know. I just…” The words gripped at her vocal chords- there was such a raging desire to speak them, for her to just be honest and tell Yamcha what was really happening. She thought it would have been much easier than this, but actually being face-to-face with him made it all the more difficult.

To anyone who knew them, Yamcha and Bulma’s relationship was shaky at best, and tumultuous at its worst. For the past decade, the pair had routinely been off-and-on, never certainly together for much longer than a few months before separating again.

At this point, Bulma was tired. And she was certain Yamcha was tired, too.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Bulma finally breathed, hardly above a mutter. She felt tears begin to prickle at her eyes as she brought her thumb up to wipe it away before it could escape. Flattening her lips again, she firmly shook her head.

“What is it? Bulma, please- I need you to talk with me. We can work this out, we always do, don’t we?”

Shaking her head with more confidence, she felt her nails dig into her palms and her knees begin to hurt as they were pressed harder together. “That’s the thing, Yamcha: we can’t keep doing this!” Abruptly standing from her chair, she walked towards the railing and leaned over to look at Capsule Corp.’s backyard. Taking a few deep breaths, she hugged her arms and slouched her shoulders.

Loss for words, Yamcha rose from his chair as well. His initial instinct was to stand beside Bulma, if not wrap his arm around her shoulder. Clearly, however, that would be inappropriate. Instead, he tucked his chair back under the table and began to collect their glasses with some hesitation.

“If that’s what you want, then.... Then I’ll see you later.” Spending half of your life with someone should have given you some idea of what their reaction would be to certain situations, yet if it wasn’t evident before how little Bulma and Yamcha truly understood each other, then what occurred next would solidify that fact.

Yamcha expected that to be the ideal response; he was willing to respect Bulma’s wish to separate. It wasn’t like they hadn’t broken up countless times throughout their history. Of course, this time was going to be permanent. But if it meant Bulma was happy, then he could live with it- it would just take some time getting used to knowing they would never reunite in that sense.

Nothing could ever be as simple as that, however. Tightening her grip around the metal railing, Bulma turned to look at Yamcha as he began to leave the terrace. “So that’s it? You’re not going to even try to argue!?”

Astonished, Yamcha could only stand there with his mouth agape, glasses in hand as Bulma started her way towards him. “Do I really mean so little to you that you’d just be fine with us breaking up- just like  _ that!?” _ Throwing her hands into the air, she scoffed. “Geez, I should’ve known.”

Directing her disappointment back towards Yamcha, she jabbed her finger at his sternum. “So who is she then, huh? Have you been seeing someone else? Is that why you’re so ready to let me go!?”

If he were younger, Yamcha would have just stood there and let her go off.  _ She’s just letting off some steam, _ he would have to tell himself. He would sit there and take her verbal barrage without a retort, fidgeting and crawling in his skin as her voice would get louder and louder, her words becoming nastier and more personal. He was willing to take it all if it meant he loved her.

But Yamcha wasn’t a kid anymore- he wasn’t an awkward teenager or a young man fumbling his way around his first relationship. He was nearing thirty, and he couldn’t just take Bulma’s selfish venting anymore. Selfish venting that insisted  _ he  _ was a terrible man- that  _ he  _ was the careless one who never cared about their relationship- that  _ he  _ was constantly thinking about the next partner in case things didn’t work out and fawning over any pretty face he saw on the street.

“Alright, you know what? We’re not doing this.” Walking past her, he planted the glasses back on the table before facing her once again. “You always do this, Bulma! You always think I’m running behind your back, or you think I’m just waiting for the next chick to walk by so I can ditch you.”

It was his turn to get in her face, only rage failed to flood his heart- it was only despair. “You’ve always meant the world to me. I’ve always been there for you- for you to think I’d  _ ever  _ betray you like that!?” The more he spoke, the more herculean he found it to be to argue. Unable to continue, he covered his eyes with the palms of his hands and let out a shaky sigh.

Walking away from Bulma once more, he slumped down into his former chair and buried his face in his hands. “It’s just not fair...”

While Yamcha was ready to just leave at that point, Bulma was certain of having the last word, the clicking of her heels a clear indication she wasn’t through with him yet.  _ “Oh no, _ don’t you do that: don’t try to make me seem like  _ I’m _ the bad guy here!” Snatching his ear, she yanked Yamcha out of his chair and made him look at her. “Who’s the guy with the fanclub? Who’s the guy with girls always talking about him? Everywhere I go and I see you in the paper there’s always some girls gushing over you! I mean, do you know how awkward it is for us to go out and I can’t help but notice your  _ mob  _ ogling you too!? And don’t even get me  _ started  _ on you and Becky!” Had they any neighbors, Yamcha and Bulma surely would have expected a noise complaint at this point as Bulma began full-on yelling. “It’s unbelievable how selfish you are. I bet you love all of the attention don’t you!?”

Yamcha was ready to groan as soon as Bulma mentioned Becky; Bulma’s inability to let go of the whole concert incident was irritating normally, but now that she was trying to use it as genuine criticism against him? It made his heart ache- that wasn’t even to mention her other conjectures against him. “I already told you, I didn’t-” Dragging his hands down his face, Yamcha shook his head to refocus. “That’s not what this is about. What this is about is that you don’t trust me! And why!? I’ve never even  _ looked  _ at those girls like that, Bulma. You know this!”

“You admit to looking at them, then?”

_ Now  _ Yamcha was willing to groan as he rolled his eyes, unsurprisingly awarding him with Bulma beginning to raise her voice at him again before he stopped her. “Maybe you’re right- maybe this _ isn’t _ going to work out.”

As Yamcha began to leave the terrace, he could faintly hear Bulma yelling after him, urging him to come back to finish their conversation. But as he left through the front doors of Capsule Corp., he was firm in the fact he wouldn’t be going back any time soon.

How long had it been since Bulma and Yamcha had their argument? Perhaps two hours- maybe three. Yamcha wasn’t sure as he blindly walked around, not entirely certain if he was even within West City’s walls any more. Realizing that he actually wasn’t sure where he was, he took a moment to look up and observe his surroundings, definitely finding himself no longer in the city as he was met with skyscraping trees and lush greenery for miles.

It was strange: he was positive he hadn’t seen such a place before, but as his legs continued to carry him onward he couldn’t deny the feeling of familiarity, his feet seeming to share the sentiment as he was guided along an invisible pathway.

His bewilderment would come to a strict standstill upon spotting weathered fences and a wooden mailbox that had frankly seen better days. Realizing where he was, Yamcha froze, merely standing at the base of a disheveled farmhouse. There were a plethora of things he could do with this new development: he could knock on the door and hope for the best, or continue walking into the woods and find a place to sleep in there.

Quickly coming to terms with the fact the latter choice was ridiculous, Yamcha began the trudge up the moderately-steep hill to the home’s entrance. He couldn’t help but to flex his knuckles in mild anticipation as he stood in front of the double doors.  _ Would he even be awake...? _

Wrapping his knuckles against the oak, Yamcha waited patiently for anything- the creaking of floorboards, rhythmic thumps against carpet, or even a flicker of a light. Just something as a sign of life.

At the insistent silence, Yamcha’s eyes began to wander around the area, more notably taking in the features of the farmhouse. For a farmhouse- one that seemed abused at that, it was more ornate than anticipated, careful designs and geometric shapes lovingly crafted into the door frame and at the roof of the walls. Tracing his fingers over the carvings, Yamcha couldn’t help but smile at the intricate craftsmanship.

“Yamcha?” Tien’s gravely voice caught Yamcha off guard for a multitude of reasons- namely that he didn’t even hear him open the front door.

Seeing that Tien actually was awake left Yamcha at a loss for what to do. He hadn’t even planned on seeing him tonight- frankly he thought he would need some time alone before seeing anyone, really. But Tien always had a way of making him feel at home; auspiciously, perhaps this surprise visit wouldn’t turn out to be such a bad thing. It all depended on whether Tien was even willing to take him in at this hour.

“Hey man,” Yamcha chirped, the tone a clear façade to conceal his depressed mood. “Think I could crash here for the night?”  
“Why, did something happen?” Despite the question, Tien nevertheless stepped to the side and invited Yamcha inside, the latter slipping his shoes off before looking around the interior.

“What? Naw, dude! Can’t a guy just wanna hang with his pal?” Yamcha let out a forced chuckle as he settled with sitting at the rather bland kitchen table. Tien’s inquiry was innocuous enough: considering their lives,  _ anything  _ could have happened. Although Yamcha wasn’t sure he would be able to confidently say “anything” would be worse than what he just went through.

Closing the door, Tien placed his hands on his hips, piercing Yamcha with a stern gaze. “Yamcha. I live in the middle of nowhere. My house isn’t the kind of place you go to if you just want to ‘hang.’”

Folding his own arms over his chest, Yamcha gave an exaggerated pout and tilted his head at Tien before fluttering his lashes. “Aw come on, you know I’d walk out into the middle of nowhere at midnight if it meant seein’ _you…”_

It wasn’t a guttural laugh, but Tien did snort, which was a victory enough for Yamcha as his host sat adjacent to him at the table. “So is that it then? You  _ really just  _ wanted to hang out, huh? And this couldn’t wait until the morning?”

Being friends with Tien was complicated: Yamcha knew better than anyone besides perhaps Chiaotzu that Tien had the social cues of a goldfish. But the way he seemed to tease at the fact he knew something wasn’t right made Yamcha’s stomach turn. Perhaps it was his distracting third eye that seemed to pierce right into his soul, seemingly fishing for the actual truth.

But swallowing the truth, Yamcha waved at the air dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I’m chill. _ I’m chill! _ I’m just…” In his attempt to conceal the fact he was, in actuality,  _ not  _ chill, Yamcha found the preexisting confidence in his voice begin to wane as he recounted the whole argument. 

As his mind began to drift and his gaze start to blur, he could feel Tien’s rough hand atop his sleeved wrist. Even as he began to shake him, Yamcha couldn’t pry himself free of Bulma’s words.

_ “Yamcha!”  _ Tien finally yelled, giving him an additional firm shake to successfully bring him back to Earth. It wasn’t until Yamcha slowly turned to focus on him that Tien decided things were amiss. “So something  _ did  _ happen, then...”

Feeling akin to a fish out of water, Yamcha found himself staring at Tien with his jaw slack. For a second, Yamcha contemplated on what to do. Of course, he could just lie and act like he was thinking of something else. On the other hand, he also knew how stubborn, persistent, and, when he wanted to be, observational Tien could be.

Everyone would find out eventually, and he’d rather Tien be the first one to know than anyone else.

“You could say that,” Yamcha tittered hollowly, finding new interest in the wooden floor. Using his other hand, he twirled the hairs at the base of his neck while Tien continued to hold onto his wrist. “It’s no biggie. Bulma and I are just… We just got into an argument is all.”

At the apparent news, Tien nonchalantly gave an acknowledging hum and let go of Yamcha’s wrist. Feeling Tien’s hand slip away, Yamcha couldn’t help but feel a pang against his chest; it was true that Bulma and Yamcha fighting was nothing new, but this time felt different. Not to mention he couldn’t deny that he rather missed the tender gesture and the warmth of Tien’s hand.

“You should’ve just said that sooner.” With a mild understanding of the situation, Tien began to rise from his chair to return to bed.

“Wait-  _ don’t go,” _ Yamcha blurted out as he reached for Tien’s arm and grabbed him by the wrist. The sudden action roused confusion in the two, Yamcha especially. He was quick to let go and cough into his fist, feeling his ears begin to burn. “I mean… Stay up with me?  _ Just for a little bit.”  _ If Yamcha expected to be doing  _ anything  _ tonight, he surely wasn’t expecting to be  _ begging  _ Tien to be with him right now.

Befuddled, Tien looked from his arm to Yamcha and couldn’t help but really look at his face. If Bulma and Yamcha just had an ordinary fight, then how come he looked so… pitiful? Pathetic, almost. And that wasn’t even considering what just happened between them; the utter urgency and quiver in his voice spoke volumes to Yamcha’s  _ actual  _ feelings about the situation opposed to what he was initially letting on.

Without much of another word, Tien maintained eye contact with Yamcha as he reclaimed his seat, propping his elbow onto the table and leaning into his hand. To the action, Yamcha smiled and let his body relax, letting himself sit comfortably in his seat.

The silence ever growing between them, the atmosphere transitioned from relieved comfort to become discomforting and directionless. Graciously, Tien would be the bolder of the two to break the silence and begin to be inquisitive. “What’s going on with you two  _ this  _ time anyways? Doesn’t seem like any old bout to me.”

The questions were inevitable, but Yamcha couldn’t help but cringe at having to recount that night’s events so soon, and Tien’s characteristic bluntness didn’t help alleviate the pain. “If I knew I’d tell you. We were just having a drink outside and she starts talking about how… how we’re not working out.”

“That’s nothing new though?”

“I know  _ that- _ and that’s what I told her!” Yamcha balled his fists atop Tien’s kitchen table, the memory doing well to reignite his frustration. “But then she just starts talking about how selfish I am and basically saying it’s my fault we were so…  _ So-” _

“Dysfunctional.”

Snapping his fingers, Yamcha pointed to Tien. “Yeah, that’s the word!”

Letting his arm lay flat on the table, Tien leaned in as the conversation wrangled his interest. “But she said something else, didn’t she?”

Recovering from his feelings, Yamcha stared dumbfounded at Tien. “What are you talking about?”

“Yamcha, I know you well enough to know that’s not everything.”

Truthfully, Yamcha couldn’t think of much else Bulma had said that got him so riled up. She hadn’t said anything he hadn’t heard before…

Recollecting more of the argument, Yamcha’s cocktail of emotions diffused into only dejection. “Honestly? It wasn’t even ‘cause of  _ what  _ she said.” Cupping his chin atop his palms, Yamcha looked sternly at the end of the table. “It’s  _ how  _ she said it. Like… like she really meant it this time, you know?”

_ “'How _ she said it?’”

Thinking thoroughly on his words, Yamcha began to nod as he gradually began to understand. “Yeah. Like every other time, I could tell she was just mad, right? But she just seemed so... _ lost.  _ Like even  _ she  _ wasn’t sure- and Bulma’s sure of everything!” Yamcha slammed his hands onto the table and looked to Tien for validation as if he just made an earth-shattering breakthrough.

“You’re saying this is it, then. You guys are  _ actually  _ done this time?”

Once Tien vocalized it, Yamcha practically felt his heart cave in on itself. Although he and Bulma never had the most stable relationship, he couldn’t refrain from loving her all the same. Even sitting alone with Tien talking about the whole situation, it was impossible for him to truly hate Bulma or even be upset with her. He really only felt upset with himself.

“I don’t want to say that but what else could all of this mean?” Now that he said it, reality and all of its implications began to crash upon him and he could feel his spine shiver. 

Attempting to calm himself, he began to bounce his leg and twiddle his thumbs. “Oh man, I really must’ve messed up  _ big  _ time if she really wants to...” He couldn’t help but to brush persistently at his hair, continuously tucking loose strands behind his ear. “What do you think did it?” Looking back to Tien, he was only met with a face twisted with disbelief and discombobulation. “Maybe I  _ have  _ been staying out too late after practice- or maybe she really didn’t like my cooking after all...”

Ceasing his frantic jittering and listing of potential reasons to end a decade-long relationship, Yamcha folded his arms atop the table and rested his chin on top of his forearms. “...Or maybe she’s right. Maybe… maybe I just wasn’t a good enough boyfriend.”

The bang against the table alone was enough to make Yamcha jump and straighten his posture, but looking over to see Tien standing with his fists clenched against the table and his chair knocked carelessly to the side was what yanked Yamcha out of his self depreciative soliloquy.

“Are you even listening to yourself right now!? I refuse to sit here and let you beat yourself up over this!”

“Tien, I don’t think you understand.”

Letting his temper simmer, Tien leaned over the table and glowered at Yamcha. “Then explain it to me.”

Backing up a smidgeon in his seat, Yamcha attempted to put just a little breathing room between him and Tien. Actually being prompted to explain himself- and not just be yelled at with accusations, was a foreign concept, so Yamcha took a solid minute to carefully put his words together.

But every so often Yamcha would start to open his mouth only to flounder his words and close it again to reconsider his statement; after numerous, failed attempts to utter a single phrase, he could only sigh in defeat as he slackened his body, again flumping against his chair.

As much as Tien genuinely wanted to understand Yamcha’s point of view, he couldn’t help the sting in his sternum as he watched him deflate and be incapable of justifying his own mindset. He also was at a loss of what to say, or really do: he had non-existent knowledge on regular relationships, let alone one as complicated as Yamcha and Bulma’s.

Softening his demeanor, Tien gingerly uncurled a fist and laid his hand flat on top of Yamcha’s, giving it a tender squeeze before idly brushing it with his thumb.

The gesture didn’t seem like much, but inadvertently it made Yamcha’s heart swell and he cracked a smile, letting his head rest against his arm on the table. He sighed through his nose before looking up at Tien through casted eyelashes. “Thanks.” It was quiet, but even so he could feel his chest radiate a gentle heat throughout him. Really, Yamcha couldn’t have been a more lucky guy than to have Tien by his side right now.

_ Tien... _ Yamcha let his head swirl with memories as he reviewed their relationship. It was interesting, to say the least: to go from bitter enemies to comforting one another in the dead of night, it continued to baffle Yamcha every time he thought of their progression- and whether he acknowledged it before or not, he thought of it often. May it be due to the remnants of his drink from earlier in the night, Yamcha rested his cheek completely over his elbow and shut his eyes, his subtle smile stretching into a lazy grin as a warmth engulfed him. 

“...Tien…” He muttered the name, deciding it felt comfortable on his tongue as he hummed to himself, reliving other quiet moments they managed to share with each other throughout the years.

Though amidst his reminiscing, he managed to forget Tien was actively present in the room, his hushed tone easily reminding him of such fact. “Yes?”

Lagging his eyes open, Yamcha looked at Tien through a new lens- a hazy, blissful lens that seemed to illuminate his profile and make Yamcha’s heart throb just a bit. With the last bits of a memory still fresh in his mind, his eyes briefly darted to his and Tien’s hands before flipping his own over, wrapping his fingers around Tien’s hand as his gaze shifted to his face.

“Thanks… _ again-  _ for everything, actually.”

Cocking his head a bit, Tien stared blankly, a question beginning to balance on the tip of his tongue. He had no reason to voice it however as Yamcha stood up from his seat, releasing Tien’s hand as he shuffled to kneel next to him. Planting his chin on the table, Yamcha returned to looking at his friend. “It just feels like you’ve always been there for me.”

With a look of skepticism, Tien couldn’t help but continue looking confused. “What are you talking about?”

“...Ah, I don’t know.” With a nervous laugh, Yamcha shook his head as best he could against the table. “I really don’t know.”

With judgement that the conversation was drawing to a conclusion, Tien patted Yamcha on the shoulder and had intended on going to bed sincerely this time- had Yamcha not snaked his hand back on top of his, decidedly keeping it there. Gliding his own thumb over the hardened knuckles, Yamcha sighed into the arm keeping Tien’s touch upon him.

To the unanticipated action, Tien felt his eyes widen a tad and his cheeks start to burn, nevertheless letting his hold become firm on Yamcha’s shoulder.

“...You know…” Yamcha started before lifting his mouth free from behind his arm, now resting it on his bicep. “I was lying when I said I wanted to hang out.”

Smiling, Tien quirked a brow and squeezed Yamcha’s shoulder. “Really?”

His response was simple but regardless it roused a genuine laugh out of Yamcha, in turn causing Tien to feel about as fuzzy as how Yamcha’s head must have felt.

“I’m happy we  _ are  _ hanging out, though. I think I needed to see you.”

“You…  _ think?” _

Having his words echoed back at him, Yamcha’s eyes only opened fully for a moment in realization before becoming hooded once more, letting his hand fall to his side as he turned his body towards Tien. A certain boldness seemed to take over his downtrodden mood, placing his hands to rest atop Tien’s knees. Yamcha watched as he played with Tien’s legs, idly swaying and allowing them to press together before opening them to repeat the motion. “I do: I’ve been doing that a little tonight.”

On his admittedly-accidental way to Tien’s abode, Yamcha  _ did  _ grant himself plenty of time to think. In such time, he was able to safely conclude that- like many other times, Bulma  _ was  _ right: their relationship had long since run its course, if it ever even had one in the first place. They had gotten together through coincidental circumstances- attempting to fix their problems of needing a lover as teenagers. And for years they repeatedly convinced themselves that what they had was good and normal. That what they had, if unstable sometimes, was working out and this is what was expected of a typical couple. But if the past twelve years taught him anything, then it was that their relationship was anything but _ typical- _ both in the sense most couples didn’t have to worry about supernatural entities and bringing their boyfriends back to life with crystal balls from another planet, but also in the sense that they were far from compatible with each other. The longer they forced their relationship to “work,” straining and pulling it taut, the more their genuine friendship and personal desires suffered. Reflecting a bit further, Bulma only seemed to want a _ boyfriend: _ not a husband, but someone to say she owned and received unconditional attention from until she became bored and found someone who better caught her interest.

That wasn’t what Yamcha wanted. Yamcha wanted a  _ lifelong partner,  _ someone to share his passions and dreams with until he died _. _ Not someone who would scoff at his interests and belittle him at any chance they could get. Not someone who would only look at him in awe of his attractive face and sculpted body- a look that would bounce from him to other men in a heartbeat, anyway. He wanted to feel loved and cared for, not like some  _ thing  _ to be owned and paraded around only to be replaced whenever convenient.

Certainly, in that moment, he felt the former kneeling in Tien’s kitchen. Let it be because of his fickle emotions and mild intoxication, but whatever reason it may be Yamcha couldn’t deny it was because of the care Tien extended towards him. Admittedly, what Tien provided was very simple- actions any good-natured friend would have done in his place. Alas, the culmination of fleeting feelings over the years coupled with his broken heart merely squashed the rationale. Yamcha let Tien’s legs close and carefully glided his eyes back up to the man before him, upon his face finding a patient expression.

Tien had silently allowed Yamcha to stew in his thoughts as he anticipated a reply of some sort, and he had a response ready for him. Rising from the floor, Yamcha balanced a shaky knee on the very edge of the chair. Brushing Tien’s hand off his shoulder, Yamcha tried to steady himself on the chair’s frame- though due to the chair being rather small alongside Tien’s thick thigh, Yamcha found his knee just barely slipping off the edge. As a result, he fell just a bit closer to Tien’s face.

His subdued features replaced with placid surprise, Tien looked at Yamcha with baited breath, the proximity of their faces deeming it inappropriate to breathe if it wasn’t through a whisper. “...And what did you think of?”

Yamcha’s eyes glazed over Tien’s face as it hunted for any indication he wanted him to back away, yet he found nary a sign. If anything, there lay a muted request for Yamcha to continue his subtle advance.

Swallowing the nervous lump in his throat, Yamcha licked his lips while his hands glided from the chair to Tien’s shoulders, thoughtfully rubbing at the firm muscles and soft tank top straps that rested upon them. With a final brush across his shoulders, his hands now resting at the base of Tien’s neck, Yamcha let his thumbs gently push up against his jaw, urging Tien to look up at him. “A lot.”

Yamcha’s thumbs traced the bottom of his jawline, each stroke stacking an itching impatience within Tien’s stomach. It was evident Yamcha felt hesitant about what he wanted to do next if his eyes flickering to Tien’s lips and the nibbling of his own was anything to go off of- so as any good friend would do, Tien sought to alleviate the dither.

Taking careful hold of the leg that pressed beside his thigh, Tien pulled Yamcha onto his lap as he took hold of his other leg, effectively letting Yamcha straddle him. Hoping the move was enough to translate what he wanted Tien let his hands rest over one another just at the base of Yamcha’s spine, definitely pulling him against him.

The tender look Tien focused on him with made Yamcha grateful he was already sitting- if not, he was positive his knees would have given and he would be on the floor in a mushy puddle. Leaning close enough for his breath to tickle Tien’s lips, Yamcha let his hands cup his face. “Is this okay?”

Thinking of the situation and the past couple of minutes that transpired, Tien found himself unsure. Everything felt too dreamlike to be true, not to mention Yamcha just broke up with Bulma. It didn’t sit right with him- if only because things just seemed to line up perfectly.

Forcing himself to look away from Yamcha’s mouth, he gave him a stern look. “Is it?” Tien wanted confirmation of any sort without a doubt that this is  _ really  _ what Yamcha wanted.

To that, Yamcha merely nodded, granting Tien full permission to hold his breath, close his eyes, and bridge the small gap between them, giving him a tentative kiss- his first one, at that. Only letting his lips kiss at the corners of Yamcha’s mouth, Tien felt his face fully catch ablaze at his blatant inexperience, wagering Yamcha had at least some better understanding of exactly what to do.

Not feeling any air brush against his skin let alone noticing Tien’s hesitation, Yamcha couldn’t help but giggle at the endearing innocence to the kiss, deepening the pigment on Tien’s cheeks as a result. “You can breathe, you know.”

“Sorry…” Even if all he wanted to do right now was tease Tien for his sheepish attitude, Yamcha couldn’t bring himself to do so, finding the shy display beyond lovable. Instead, he decided to take lead of the moment and give him a proper kiss, shutting his eyes and capturing Tien’s lips with his own. Granting him time to get used to the feeling, Yamcha moved his lips to a slow rhythm, gradually pressing himself firmer against Tien as he felt him begin to reciprocate the action with progressing confidence.

Of course, it was sloppy and very amateur. But Yamcha could still feel Tien was trying his best to convey his passion- especially when he felt Tien’s hands take a better hold of his back and hold him closer. That passion, no matter how clumsy it may be, was all Yamcha could have asked for- it was all he ever wanted. 

When Yamcha began to pull away, Tien couldn’t abstain from leaning after him as he tried to recapture his mouth to continue. At his eagerness, Yamcha chuckled and gave a loving pinch to his cheek. “I’m right here, don’t worry. I just wanted to look at you, is all.”

Displeased with the playful treatment, Tien attempted an intimidating glare- which typically wouldn’t have at all been an issue. In such context however, it only made Tien look needy and almost childish: cute, in layman’s terms.

“Stop looking at me, then.” Tien didn’t bother directly voicing his want, alternatively placing a hand on the back of Yamcha’s head and urging him back onto his lips as they restarted the kiss. As Yamcha learned early on in their relationship, Tien was a fairly quick learner, his kiss this time being more fluid and on beat to their tempo. Despite his small improvements, Yamcha found he was still somewhat rough- but perhaps that part was intentional, feeling Tien’s fingers grip at his body and tremble attempting to maintain a controlled composure.

Experiencing Tien’s enthusiasm made Yamcha smile, yet realizing his intense ardor made his own self quake. Apparently catching on to that Yamcha was privy to his desire, Tien let himself become experimental with his movements. Planting his remaining hand onto Yamcha’s rump while the other found its way entangled within short locks, Tien heedfully nipped at Yamcha’s bottom lip and gave it a delicate tug. Utilizing the brief moment they were parted, Yamcha let out an uneven breath as he tilted Tien’s head upwards more, guiding the duo into an open-mouth kiss.

Being introduced to the new sensation easily brought out a satisfied moan from Tien as he gripped onto Yamcha tighter, attempting to bring him closer while the kiss picked up in fervor. Alongside the growing intensity, Yamcha began to rock his hips in tandem to their frantic rhythm, pleased to garner a delighted grunt from Tien as he felt his own hips twitch under the grinding.

Grabbing a handful of his hair, Tien pulled Yamcha away from him and admired his flushed, dazed complexion. Undeniably and unsurprisingly, the heated juncture caused an uncomfortable strain in Tien’s pants as his erection pressed against Yamcha. But with reluctance, Tien was aware that they shouldn’t go beyond this moment. After all, Chiaotzu was only recently put to bed- it would be beyond uncomfortable, not to mention awkward, trying to explain whatever predicament the pair would find themselves in if they decided to continue.

Burying whatever lust Yamcha felt within him, he slumped against Tien as his forehead rested against his nose. Sliding his hands down Tien’s chest, he let his thumbs pick at his shirt’s fabric, meanwhile trying to assemble his thoughts together. “Uh-” clearing his throat, Yamcha felt the past few minutes dawn upon him, his face flaring in mortification. “You don’t think I could, uh... stay the night?”

Finally regulating his breathing, Tien’s hands traveled to Yamcha’s face as he urged him to meet his gaze. “Stay as long as you want. I...” Contradicting the hungry performance from before, Tien found himself timorous once again as his words faded away when he started to give air to his feelings. Figuring his words wouldn’t work out, he settled on pecking Yamcha on the lips and rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. Hopefully that alone would have clued him in on the elation Tien felt at the prospect of Yamcha being with him. For how long? He wasn’t sure- but  _ any  _ amount of time made the butterflies in his stomach flutter with greatness.

It was obvious Tien was happy at the thought of him sleeping over, yet Yamcha’s grin widened, now placing his hands over Tien’s. “You _ what?”  _ The query was teasing, yet his tone came out tender. Unable to maintain their eye contact, Tien’s eyes downcast at their laps. Starting to chew the inside of his cheek, he looked up at Yamcha as his head remained lowered. 

“I’d be… happy. To have you.  _ Here.”  _ Yamcha knew the reply wouldn’t come smoothly, yet he couldn’t complain at the wholesome delivery- especially when Tien was giving him such a diminutive look.

Yamcha had long since sobered up, both free of any remaining alcohol in his system and both in what he wanted moving forward. Undoubtedly, his future with Bulma would- he hoped at least, just be platonic, a thought that made him happier than he was proud to admit. Though what happened tonight brought forth a potentially new path in his life he never thought possible, nor never thought he would want more than anything else: a relationship with Tien. A relationship he hoped would blossom and last well even into the afterlife. Lacking any more hesitation, Yamcha gave Tien a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, settling his hands interlocked behind Tien’s neck. 

“I’d like that.” He paused, letting the thought of the rest of his life with Tien broaden his grin. “A lot.”


End file.
